


Who Knows What the Next Half Hour, Forty-Five Minutes Hold

by Skeletorific



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Gen, Meet-Cute, Other, i'm projecting yes, nebulous knowledge of plant based flammable, not super romancey but who knows, pre-game, prior to canon events, sharky has ADHD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 23:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletorific/pseuds/Skeletorific
Summary: Originally posted to tumblr @rookisaknight. You don’t expect your luck to turn around via getting caught trying to light a squad car on fire. But then, weirder things have happened for Sharky. Alternative title: Sharky Meets the One Good Cop.





	Who Knows What the Next Half Hour, Forty-Five Minutes Hold

They hadn’t invented a curse word good enough for the kind of day Charlemagne “Sharky” Boshaw the IV was having. Not that this was stopping him from cycling through a few choice ones, trying to find one who’s mouthfeel and vitriol would encompass the capital B Bullshit he was putting up with today.

First off, waking up in a drunk tank was never a good way to start the morning. Especially not with that shithead Pratt, who’d lately taken to amusing himself by waking up the nightly collection of hedonists with decidedly non-regulation use of the prison’s speaker system. The only thing worse than waking up with a blistering headache and a knot in your back is having it happen to the tune of “Chicken Fried” at 120 decibels.

“Fuck, dude, I should kill ya for bad taste if nothin else!” He had tried to scream over the fuckin acoustic strumming. Pratt had just snickered, handing a coffee mug to his P.O., who looked just as amused by the whole scenario. 

It was only after he’d shouted himself hoarse that Pratt finally agreed to give him his phone call. Voice squeaking with dehydration and overuse, he’d by some miracle got Hurk on the phone and tried to talk him into bailing him out. Problem was, Hurk was (as per fuckin usual) short on cash. The old man was also piss drunk mad at him (once again, usual), but he thought maybe Addie might be in a good enough mood to chuck a little his way. The thought of Aunt Adelaide had momentarily perked him up until he realized that if Hurk couldn’t get the money from her, he was gonna have to be able to talk to Hurk again to sort things out. And given how absolutely certain he was that Staci was going to shove the “one-phone-call-only” stick up his ass in a few minutes......that meant he was gonna have to stay on the line.

He spent the better part of two hours, head pounding, mouth only getting dryer as he listened to Hurk putter around looking for his keys, getting continually distracted, finally getting in the fuckin truck and driving up to the Marina, only to discover the reason Addie had seemed so good-tempered in her response to her only son’s good morning text is that, judging by what Sharky could hear over the tinny reception, she and Xander were....busy.

What followed was a three way screaming match of Addie yelling at Hurk to get the hell out, Sharky yelling at Hurk to stay the hell there, and Hurk yelling their responses back and forth across the phoneline.

Finally Xander tossed his wallet at Hurk in an effort to make him leave (“he seemed real excited about this harness thing Mama was fussin with, I dunno”), and after paying off his bail, slipping an extra fifty to keep his P.O happy, and begging a ride home, Sharky was more than ready to take some aspirin, find a six pack, and wash off last night’s hangover with a tonight’s beer.

No such luck. His truck had been impounded after last night’s little misadventure. And he felt his heart sink into the holes in his socks when he saw the big black Eden’s Gate cross in the window of the only liquor store in walking distance

“MotherFUCKINGdamnit not you too!” 

Had he lost his temper a bit? Sure. Did he expect the windows to still be alarmed? No. But, he thought to himself as he beat feet into the woods before any cops could pick up on it, Eden’s Gate had only themselves to blame for it! Wasn’t enough that they had to get half of Holland Valley so all-fired on chastity that he couldn’t move without getting a pamphlet on lust shoved up his nose and down his pants, now they had to deprive him of his well-earned booze too!

Like most residents of Hope County he didn’t know what the hell the cops were playing at letting the Peggies keep running as they did. Sure, John Seed and Faith were running spin so well it made carousels jealous, but it was the state’s worst kept secret that the recent rash of disappearances could be pretty easily traced to them. Not to mention the scars most of their members were sporting....Hell, maybe he should recommend Pratt to the evangelists that came knocking through his trailer park early each Sunday. 

.....No. No he wouldn’t. Jackass though he was....well. From the stories Sharky’d heard and the bits and pieces he’d seen for himself, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone’s head.

Still, he felt irritated. Frustration building inside him like a pressure cooker as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets, feeling his feet unconsciously make tracks for the ruins of the old roller derby. He needed to cool off.

People made the mistake of looking at him alongside Hurk and assuming he was just as mellow. He wasn’t. Sure, the weed and the beers kept him nice and chilled out, usually, but without a substance in his hands he was at the mercy of the spastic energy that was always cooped up in his body. He needed to...shit. Hit something maybe? Prank calls?

No.....no he knew this feeling. 

He needed to burn something. 

He fished the lighter out of his pocket, sending up a quick thank you that Pratt hadn’t taken it off him. He was running low on them with the new P.O sticking his nose into every nook and cranny to squirrel out contraband. Something about enablement and all the other bullshit his court-appointed therapist liked to recite to him in their bi-monthly sessions.

With a huff, he leaned against a tree, flicking it on and off again. Trying to lose himself in the little bright patch of flame. Sometimes this would at least take the edge off. Today, though? He was gonna need a lot more than a measly little two buck zippo. 

 

His options were limited. Normally in a case like this he’d go for a campfire but it was the dry season and any smoke was certain to have those smarmy pricks from the fire department up his ass. He flicked the lighter a few more times, hoping maybe it’d concur with a lightbulb moment and he could have that dramatic satisfaction.

Out of the corner of his eye he suddenly saw a gleam of white aluminum.

He glanced over and instinctively dove behind the tree once he realized what it was. Police cruiser. Of all the days....He observed it cautiously before slowly emerging. Didn’t look like anyone was there. Keys weren’t even in. 

He’d gotten acquainted enough with most of the police vehicles in town to know this one was Pratt’s chosen steed. You could tell by the number of air-fresheners he kept in there: one of his tricks he insisted made chicks feel more at home in a car. 

(Not like Sharky’d tried that or anything. And even if he had, the lingering odors were finally coming out of the upholstery after the fourth wash. “Stripper smell” his ass....)

Most importantly, though, like most people around here, Pratt didn’t lock his doors....

Sharky’s lightbulbs usually took a while to kick on but this one seemed to burn a few watts brighter than most.

He took a quick check of the surrounding woods. Long practice had taught him what made for good kindling and what didn’t. It was pretty much the only thing he’d kept from a few frustrating years in 4H, aside from a couple of hoofshaped bruises on his arms and a healthy fear of pigs. 

And that was the moment when he realized all the bullshit of the day had been leading him to this single, perfect, shining moment. Because right there, nested amongst a beautiful layer of crisp pine needles and perfectly dried out branches....was chamerion angustifolium.

More commonly known as fireweed. 

He moved fast as he could, carefully laying the groundwork in the backseat of the cruise, setting it up with the savoir-faire of a practiced artist. The finished product damn near brought a tear to his eye. He couldn’t resist taking a picture, moving it to a hidden folder reserved for porn and particularly nice stills from period piece movies. 

He’d just found some clubmoss and was debating whether or not he had the time, scraping the fine powder off the stalks and into the center of the tinder...

“I didn’t find anyone”

The voice jerked him out of his reverie and his head snapped up.

“Yeah, me either.” Said a tired voice. Wait, he knew that one.....Deputy Hudson?

He slowly poked his head around. Yeah, Hudson alright, stomping through the woods, looking her usual vaguely tired/irritated self. She was talking to a figure he didn’t recognize (and Sharky flattered himself that he was pretty familiar with the figures of Hope County).

Shit. Should he run?

“Should we call it in?” they were saying, hand reaching for the radio clipped to their belt.

Hudson sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I dunno. Lot of trouble to go to over a busted window. Specially when there wasn’t anyone in there.”

Fuck shiiiiit they were looking for him then. He thought about bolting, but.....he looked at the kindling. There was no way this wouldn’t point back to him. He raised his hand to smash it but it was like asking Leonardo to smash the Mona Lisa. Or was is Raphael? One of the turtles...

“Still, it is Eden’s Gate property now....will that be a problem?”

 

“It will be. Question is, if we care or not.”

The stranger looked down, biting their lip. Hudson seemed to notice and snorted. “Right. Look, I know they seem intimidating but if the department went into a frenzy everytime somethin happened that Joseph Seed didn’t like then we’d never stop frenzy.....ing.” She grimaced a bit at how the sentence ended.

“So what should we do.”

They were too close, if he bolted now they’d see him run.

“Tell ya what.” She came to a halt. “We’ll do a last sweep. If we don’t find anything we’ll call it a day. Tell Seed it was a big bird or something.”

“You’re sure?”

“Trust me, Rook, the sheriff won’t care and I don’t wanna be out here any longer than I have to be. You go left, I’ll go right, we meet back in ten minutes. Sound good?”

He let out a slow sigh of relief. They’d leave, he’d (carefully) dismantle the pile, and he’d be gone. No point doing it if Pratt wasn’t gonna suffer the consequences. He started to slowly rise to his feet.

“Alright, see you the-”

Several things happened in the span of a few seconds.

One. Sharky remembered the sleeve of his hoodie was a bad place to keep his lighter. He remembered this as he watched it topple out.

Two. his instincts kicked in and he snatched at it, catching it just as it hit the pile of spores. The contact of his hand made them fly into the air in a puff. 

Three.

His thumb caught the sparkwheel.

He felt a sharp pain in his right hand that caused him to scramble backwards as his eyes were blinded by a bright flash. He felt his facial hair singe and a wall of heat on his face, and heard distant cursing.

Long experience had gotten him used to being blinded, and his vision recovered quickly. Quick enough to see the minor explosion evaporate out of the air, catching the tinder just as it faded away.

His ears were ringing and he didn’t hear them running towards the car, but he sure as shit felt it when the stranger cop tackled him to the ground. Hudson followed close behind, cursing loudly and hurriedly using the jacket to stifle the flames that were steadily eating through the upholstery.

“Who the hell are you?!” the stranger said, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him up to look at them. 

“uh.....Jimmy Buffet?” He said stupidly, mildly dazed. Didn’t help that this stranger had a pretty ass pair of eyes. Or maybe that was just the shock talking.

Hudson finally managed to choke out the fire, backing off and taking a deep breath before taking a look at the culprit. 

“.....Boshaw?!”  
What mirror had he broken

“You know him.”

“Ohhhh I know him.” Hudson straightened off, looking torn between anger and mild amusement. “The local serial arsonist. Thought Pratt had you drying out in the tank?”

“I wanna lawyer” He groaned.

“Yeah, yeah. Get off him, Rook, contrary to appearances, he isn’t dangerous. Just stupid.”

The stranger (Rook? Rookie? A last name? Who knew) clambered off him, looking slightly sheepish at having gone full Rambo for no apparent reason. “What should we do.”

“What you’re gonna do.” Hudson said, hauling him to his feet. “Is start the car and make sure it still runs.”

“Aw, c’mon, this aint necessary-” Even as he protested, out of long habit he assumed the position against the cruiser, wrists moving into position for easy cuffing. 

“No, but it sure is fun” Hudson said, snapping them on. Loose. Which was almost more humiliating, and not in the fun way either.

The car turned on as normal.

“Well. Guess we don’t have to add ‘vehicle replacement’ to your list of fines.”

“I didn’t put nothin in the dash! I’m not tryin to kill anybody, just deal with some highly justifiable frustration-”

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in court of law.” Hudson said quickly, cutting across his excuses as she forced him into the passenger side of the cruiser. “Rook, take him into the station, Pratt’ll know what to do. I’m gonna radio the Sheriff and let him know we found the window perp.”

“Hey, you got no evidence that was me!” He protested. “Just cause I happen to be in the same area as a liquor store doesn’t mean I’m-”

 

“How’d you know it was a liquor store.”

“........hey can we have a mulligan on the ‘right to remain silent’ thing-”

Hudson rolled her eyes. “Knowing Earl he’s gonna wanna come up himself and make sure the report’s in order. I’ll catch a lift back with him.”

“Got it.” Rook said, climbing into the driver’s seat. “See you at the station.”

They put it into drive and pulled out.

Sharky tried remaining in sullen silence but that was bound to last all of two minutes. His foot jiggled restlessly as he started racing through his options.

“Hey! You have any idea how serious this is?” they snapped, glaring at him. “What the hell were you trying to do?”

“Not talkin till I get a lawyer.”

“That ship’s kinda sailed don’t ya think? What the hell did you do, pour gasoline on the seats? An explosion that big, you’re lucky it didn’t destroy the car and take you out with it-”

“Its clubmoss”

“.....what?”

“Its clubmoss!” He said, snapping a bit more than he would’ve normally liked. But damn it, dude, this was the one area where he actually knew what the fuck he was talking about! Actin like Sharky Boshaw didn’t know exactly how much havoc he was wreaking was an insult to his professionalism. “Its basically plant flashbang.”

“What do you....”

“Here, just-” He slipped out of the cuffs easily enough, and ignoring their sputtering protests, he reached into the backseat and scraped up a handful of the green powder that hadn’t burned off in the explosion. “Slow the car down”

“I’m not gonna-...you-”

“I’m not gonna run. Not lookin to get tackled again.”

“....” Curiosity got the better of them and he felt the car slow to a crawl. 

He rolled down the window, tossed the powder in the air, and in the same moment sparked his lighter. A burst of flame, much smaller than the last but burning out just as quick, appeared and disappeared, making Rook yelp. 

“Clubmoss spores are chockful of lycopodium powder. They use it in movies and shit for special effects, the stuff doesn’t last long enough to cause real damage and won’t light unless it’s in the air.” He rolled back up the window, absently slipping the handcuffs back on. “Found that out from a behind the scenes featurette on this old bible movie from the church basement. Used to watch it a lot for the scene where God tossed down fire on the Egyptians or whoever. That is uh.....until the pastor confiscated it. Turns out the church basement still qualifies as holy ground and popping a boner anywhere on holy ground ain’t exactly considered kosher.”

.....Judging by the look on their face? Probably should have stopped after “behind the scenes featurette”

“So you’re a uh....special kind of crazy huh.”

“....The technical term is serial arsonist” He muttered, turning away with a flush.

“Well.....its a cool party trick at least.”

“Its-” Wait....wait, were they smiling?! Cops could smile at something that wasn’t the pain of others? Didn’t that violate some kind of code?

“Gotta say, if I were you I would’ve left the handcuffs off.” They turned onto the main road.

“Uh....” Shit, they really were cute. Or maybe that was the 6 months dry spell talking. “...gonna be honest, I don’t recall puttin em back on.” Cmon, cmon, think of something sexy to say. “Probably cause of uh...how used I am to being in handcuffs. For pleasurable reasons. I associate handcuffs with very....very good moments.” Nailed it.

“Well, given how much time Pratt says you’ve spent in holding cells I guess some of those memories have to be pleasant.”

Unnailed.

“So why’d you break the window?”

“What window.” He said instinctively. The Deputy gave him a Look and he shrugged. “.....look, I understand, freedom of religion and all that shit, but comin between a man and his liquor store has to qualify for some kind of offense, right?”

They snorted. “Well. Not that I don’t sympathize but I don’t know how well a judge is gonna take to that line of reasoning.”

“Wait, a judge? I don’t....look, we don’t need to take it that far-”

 

“Its probably what’s gonna happen. Those Peggies.....” their voice trailed off. Unsure how much shit-talking they could do in uniform. “Never seen a group so eager to press charges.”

Sharky groaned. “You gotta be fuckin....Officer, come on, I can’t do another couple months in prison. You know how boring it is in there? I mean, sure, the first few days are fine, you get to catch up with everyone, but after that you realize you’re gonna have to get used to watching all these guys take a piss for the next few months and it gets old real fast.”

“Its not really my call.”

“Its not like I even hurt anybody” This time. “Just a little reupholstering job, hell, I’ll stitch the damn seat cover myself-”

“I’m sorry but....I don’t think there’s anything I can do”

They sounded genuinely sympathetic, something he wasn’t used to from law enforcement. Maybe this one really did have a human side after all...

.....Well. Looked like the day had finally come that Sharky had been waiting for his whole life. He leaned back, pulling off his hat and running a hand through his hair a few times and trying to get a look at himself in the rearview mirror. Alright, so he wasn’t exactly Ryan Gosling, but this wasn’t the worst he’d ever looked...

“I mean uh...” He let his voice drop about a half octave and leaned into the hoarseness to go for that rougher quality. “If you want...I could find a way to make it worth your whILE”   
His voice squeaked. Cracked like it hadn’t since early puberty.

A deathly silence settled over the car.

And then the deputy erupted in laughter.

Loud, long laughter, making their shoulders shake as they bent over the wheel. Gasping for air, they were forced to put the car in park just to keep them from driving off the road. Practically screaming with it.

“Alright, alright” He muttered, shoving his hat back on as his face went bright red. “I can take a hint”

They pounded the dash. “Y-you-....you-!” Tears were streaming down their face as they snorted helplessly. And despite the humiliation of the scenario....it was infectious enough to make him crack unwittingly into a grin. 

Eh, what the hell, longer it took them to recover, longer he was out of prison. 

“What’s so fuNNY” He said, forcing the crack again, which reinvigorated the laughing. 

“Stop, stop, I-I’m gonna puke” They gasped out, choking a bit. 

Sharky patted their back. “Sooo that’s a no I’m guessin.” 

They shook their head, grinning ear to ear and straightening up as they caught their breath. “Get going.”

“What?”

“Go. Leave the handcuffs. I’ll make up some excuse.”

“....you’re serious?” His eyes widened. “Please, fuck, be serious, Staci let me get like 20 feet before hitting me with a taser in the back and let me tell you that think hurts like a bit-”

“You’ve been punished enough today, I think. And we’ve got actual threats to deal with these days.” They pulled off a key from the ring and handed it to him. “No offense.”

“....I mean, ok, a little offense normally, but given the circumstances, none taken” He unlocked the cuffs quickly and shot out of the car before they could change their mind.

“Hey, Boshaw!”

“Uhhh.....you can call me Sharky. Sounds a bit more normal.” He turned back to look at them.

They smiled. “Sharky then. Honey in tea is gonna help that voice of yours a lot more than beer. And try not to burn the forest down on the way.”

“Can do ma’-...si-....officer!” He waved and ran off fast as he could. He heard their laughter echoing a bit as the car pulled off. 

.....Maybe it might be worth sticking on the right side of the law for a couple weeks, at least.

Or maybe not. How the hell else was he gonna see them again?


End file.
